


The war is over and we are beginning

by risinggreatness



Series: Circle 'round the sun [90]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 06:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3371969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risinggreatness/pseuds/risinggreatness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first few months after the Rebellion (not EU compliant)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The war is over and we are beginning

The first cluster of Imperial ships the Alliance takes on after Endor puts up a good fight, but high on good feelings, on the sheer bravado of having cemented such a major coup in one stroke, the fleet takes on the stragglers with relative ease.

Luke suits up again; it’s been a month since Wedge has even put him on rotation, even longer since he’s seen a skirmish with Rogue.

“Look, Prithi’s willing to give up Rogue Two _just this once_ , so I suggest you take it. You gotta earn your spot back,” Wedge nods.

“Pretty comfy as Leader, huh?”

Wedge looks far too happy for someone moments from flying into battle.

Luke forgot the rush, the pounding of blood and ion cannon fire in his ears. ( _He_ almost _regrets not being there at Endor._ )

But with no _Executioner_ , the battle seems almost muted. Even at their most relentless, the remaining Imperials cannot match the dogged work of Vader and the Emperor.

Surrendering admirals and captains convene on the bridge of the _Redemption_ , but pilots and lesser officers are crowded in the hangar.

“Skywalker!” a voice calls out.

Luke turns to the source of his name. Only his face is met with a fast fist, coming at him before he can duck out of the way.

There’s commotion across the deck; some other pilots step in to intercede their peer from lashing out further; Imperial lieutenants seem to cheer him on. Ninora and Rus jump forward, ready for a brawl.

“What the hell, you want the rebel scum to come down harder on us?”

“Fuck that!”

Annoyed he missed such an easy, if unsuspected attack, Luke has no desire to actually fight the disgruntled pilot, but reaches to put his hand to his hilt. If the implication is enough –

“Not on my deck!” Wedge yells above the din.

Rus almost looks put out, an Imperial lieutenant swears loudly, but the ring which had quickly built up, dissipates as fast as it came.

“It doesn’t look too bad,” Wedge notes with a perfunctory, if sympathetic glance.

Back in his quarters, Luke stares at the blossoming bruise.

“Come in,” he says before Leia knocks.

Leia’s reaction is less cool than Wedge’s. She frets, prodding at it, which makes Luke wince.

“Nothing’s broken. It’ll just be a nice addition to this for a few days,” he points to the old scar. “I’ll be faster next time an old enemy decides to deck me, promise.”

Leia’s face purses; Luke laughs unexpectedly.

“It isn’t funny. You’re going to have to live with this sort of thing whenever you see one of those bastards.”

“No, no. I just remembered when Biggs and I were kids and he got into a fistfight with some other idiot kid and I tried to help him. I ended up tripping over an astromech instead. Uncle Owen was so mad I got involved, but when I told him it was because I fell over my feet – he told me to pick on someone my own size.”

Luke grins anew at the memory; Leia laughs now too, though the worry doesn’t quite pull away from her eyes.

“Just… be careful. This won’t be the last time.”

Luke nods to reassure her.

“You do the same. I bet conferences play even dirtier.”

Leia smiles in earnest now, “Oh, they do.”

\----------

After mediation, Luke bolts off to squadron formation, leaving Ahsoka to pull out of the calm state slowly by herself.

She wanders around the hangar to little purpose, still in the Force’s trance. Pilots and politicians, soldiers and smugglers weave in and out of the departing and returning ships.

The Falcon, returned to its new temporary home, looms larger than most. She walks up the ramp, mostly seeking Chewie, or maybe Leia, in a fresh attempt to convince her to try meditation, before beginning her training in earnest.

“Hello?” she asks the empty hold. There’s a clank from above and a dim “fuck.”

“Need a hand?” she asks the voice.

“Just get the whiskey,” replies Han.

Ahsoka obliges and climbs topside. Han sits, tools spread out around him. Ahsoka resumes the meditative position, but not the mind.

Han offers her the bottle back after taking a swig; Ahsoka takes her own.

She doesn’t have too much of a sense of Han yet. Luke and Leia are easy – Anakin and Padmé clearly written all over them. ( _Not that Ahsoka’ll say as much._ )

Luke and Leia are protective of Han to a fault. Same with Chewie, but Ahsoka knows Chewie’s dealt with shady characters before, so more than anyone, she trusts the captain of the Falcon might be someone worth letting in.

“How’d the drop go?”

“Fine. I thought I forgot the instructions on where supplies were going, but R2 had ‘em.”

“R2 always had more information than the head of an army.”

“How’d you – right,” Han stops himself before having to broach the subject of Anakin Skywalker. Ahsoka’s grateful.

They sit in silence above the noisy hangar for a few minutes.

Curiosity getting the better of him, “So what did you do all those years when you weren’t –” Han waves his hand indeterminately, signifying his fuzzy understanding of the Force.

“Running with Separatist rebels. Not nearly as successful.”

Han lets out a low whistle, “Don’t let Leia hear that. She tends to get pissed when they’re brought up.”

Ahsoka winces internally, thinking of Saw, abandoned without a word. ( _If only he wasn't so stubborn; if only Steela or Lux made it, advocates for more unity. Then there’s her, refusing to touch anything with a ten-foot pole._ )

“Yeah, well we weren’t too keen on your revolution either.”

Han laughs sardonically, “My revolution? Here I was thinking I was going to make a fortune smuggling off these starry-eyed idealists.”

“Pretty stupid on your part,” Ahsoka jokes, taking another good swig of drink.

\----------

Helping out on Luke’s X-wing proves a welcome distraction from the Falcon’s lengthening list of current issues, but there’s no challenge in it. Han can’t see the kid’s devotion to the standard-issue thing.

“It’s the flying,” he says for the hundredth time.

Han bites back he’s had few better rides than the Falcon.

“You can’t fly anywhere without good machinery though,” is his less biased retort.

“Which is why I’m working on this,” Luke shrugs then pulls himself beneath the undercarriage of the fighter.

Han idles next to the fighter, more observing Luke and R2 than actively participating.

“Shit,” Luke says from below.

“Got some puzzle I gotta sort out?” Han asks, though the smell of burning plastic hitting his nose is unexpected.

Peeling his glove off, Luke checks the fried exposed wires of his hand.

“Damn,” he mutters to the unresponsive prosthetic.

“You really should get that thing fixed,” Han notes, but gets why Luke is reluctant to restore it to “normal” appearance. It’s a sick reminder he can’t quite just let go of – Leia looks at it the same way.

“Don’t have the credits,” Luke mumbles, the same lame excuse in place.

He knows how Luke paid for it in the first place, most the old payment for an incomplete flight missing from his smuggling hatch. ( _It’s fine, Han needed the space for food and medical supplies._ ) Rogue barely pays anything; being one of three remaining Jedi brings nothing.

Han groans, “If the Rebel Alliance doesn’t pay for its favorites, I don’t know what this cause is you’ve joined. I’ll pay for the damn thing. I’m sick of looking at it anyway.”

His mock seriousness does the trick. Luke grins.

The glove is gone in a week.

\----------

It’s not an easy call, but Lando’s waited too long.

The fleet begins to disperse; though the heart of it moves ever closer to Coruscant, to claim its complete victory.

From a distance, Lando watches as everyone else loads the Falcon. ( _He could take it, this last chance to remain._ )

“Hey,” a voice startles him back.

Leia stands with only her personal affects bag; they’ll be leaving any minute now.

“You finally heading back?” she asks sympathetically.

“I’ve got to make amends for the deals that screwed them over.”

It weighs heavily on his mind. Lots of good people lost their livelihood, some lost their lives. He can admit it was a bad gamble, but now it’s time to make a safe one, and hope Bespin will take him back.

Whatever Leia’s personal feelings about those who collaborated ( _his line of work demands a less rigid morality_ ), she appreciates going home.

She nods, then completely unexpected to Lando, gives a one-armed hug.

Before leaving for the Falcon, she turns back and says, “We’ll see you there soon.”

Lando throws an easy salute. It’s a deal.

\----------

Whoever’s holding Mon captive really must be talking. Leia’s regular meetings with Mon are never postponed, even a minute, if the two of them are to make the new republic more durable than the old.

The door hisses open and closed; a tall older man with a dissatisfied look stands before her. His face might have clouded more if he did not spot Leia leaning against the wall. The anger falls away as he steps forward to introduce himself.

“Senator Organa, Senator Clovis, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I had the honor of working with your father for many years. It is a shame we did not do the same during your short tenure in the Imperial Senate.”

Funny how father never mentioned a Senator Clovis before.

Leia rises, readying to step into Mon’s office, but takes Senator Clovis’s proffered hand.

“You must forgive me, senator; I don’t know what system you represent.”

“Scipio, although most of my more direct work with your father was through my position in the Banking Clan.”

Leia’s eyebrow shoots up precipitously. So that’s why this senator needed to use every possible second with Mon.

“It’s unfortunate then the Banking Clan chair in the _Imperial_ Senate couldn’t stop the Emperor from bankrolling the Death Star, largely on their credit.”

His poise deteriorates rapidly, stammering through excuses, “We had no idea what it was being used for! If we did, we would have had very little choice in stopping it!”

“Yes, you had very little choice. As little as Alderaan.”

She pivots sharply on her heel and enters Mon’s office, no knocks. She doesn’t need to waste a second looking at Senator Clovis’s deeply uncomfortable grimace.

Mon’s face is harried and she stoops slightly over her desk.

“Who does that Clovis think he is, begging – I’m assuming – for a part in the New Republic?!”

Leia doesn’t bother to lower her voice. Mon unsurprised at Leia’s outburst.

Shrewdly, “The problem with Rush Clovis is he believes he’s sincere. That everyone else led him on and he couldn’t have possibly brought it down on himself.”

Leia lets a huff escape her lungs as she sits in the chair on the opposite side of Mon’s desk. Eager to forget the man as quickly as possible, she begins turning on holos, but Mon seems set on dwelling on old memories.

Wryly, “Your father quite enjoyed undermining him by setting Senator Amidala on the attack –”

Leia’s head snaps up, ears buzzing, almost missing what Mon says next.

( _Good for father, good for mother. She knew this about father, but to know mother did not suffer pompous fools either –_ )

“– although I suspect she relished in it anyway, since she left him high and dry after _that_ disastrous relationship.”

Leia tries to stop her nose from curling, but Mon does not notice.

Oh, mother.

The senate needs to inspect its primary shipyard; Mon delegates, Leia takes the task for now, old war duties habit.

In the hangar, Han leans on the ramp of the Falcon, looking smug.

“What did you do now?” she asks warily, but cannot keep her own delighted smile in check.

“Me?” he asks in mock hurt. “I didn’t do anything, except me and Chewie have a new hyperdrive wired in. You’ll get to Mon Calamari in a fraction of the time.”

“Pretty proud of that, huh? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Oh you better believe it, princess.”

( _They make it in the Falcon’s old average time, entirely Leia’s doing._ )

**Author's Note:**

> See author bio for discussion on this 'verse.


End file.
